If Not Victory
by Aradien
Summary: Islington is spared from a grim fate by the very woman who opened the door. But the promises of a fallen angel prove to be less than reliable. Possible Door/Islington AU.


**If Not Victory**

Islington is spared from a grim fate by the very woman who opened the door. But the promises of a fallen angel prove to be less than reliable...

* * *

"_By proof we feel  
Our power sufficient to disturb his Heaven,  
And with perpetual inrodes to alarm,  
Though inaccessible, his fatal Throne:  
__Which if not Victory is yet Revenge.__"_

― _John Milton, Paradise Lost_

* * *

Her ears howled with the sound of escaping air and, soon afterward, with the screams of men both mortal and immortal.

The hollow threats of a fallen angel, mixed with the frightened yowls of the assassins Croup and Vandemar made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on edge. She wanted to close her eyes and simply wait for the cacophony to end… but a simple string of words made ignoring the chaos around her no longer an option:

"_I'll tell you where your sister is."_

"Portia?" she muttered numbly.

Despite the fact that he was clutching onto a pillar with every fiber of his being, Islington's voice was still snarling at her. Still _authoritative_.

"She's still alive." He continued, more desperately as his fingertips began to give. As his eyes shut in resignation…

She muttered words that not even the angel could hear over the tempest. Within a second of the last word escaping her lips, the portal closed. And silence reigned over them for a few precious moments before the man tied in chains beside her began to holler.

"Door – DOOR, you've closed it too early. Croup and Vandemar are gone, but the angel – "

"I know, Richard." She told him quietly.

"He's going to kill us all if you don't open it again _right now_, Door." He begged, eyes wide with alarm and… yes, there was no mistaking the concern etched into the lines of his face. Concern for _her._

"He knows that if he tries," she explained calmly, making every effort to hide the pain that was gripping at her body and mind. "I will open it again and let him _languish _in a place the weak-hearted call Limbo. But I think he knows that even hell would be a kinder word for it."

"Oh, my Lady," rasped the Angel. Once the shock of his continued existence settled, he was rising, albeit shakily, to his feet once again. "You are so different from the rest of your family. You have _fight_ in that fragile mortal body."

"Since a family member is the reason you are still alive, I would suggest not ridiculing them in front of me." Door snapped. "Take me to Portia. Give her to me and I will help you claim everything you wanted."

"Lady, no!" interjected the Marquis, fighting against the chains that had inadvertently kept him and his companions from being swept up into Limbo. "He will kill you in a _heartbeat_."

"No, he won't." she retorted, trying to convince herself of that fact more than anyone else in the room."The real key is hidden away behind a door only _I _can open. Islington," she then stared directly at the angel, arching her head with aggression. "If you ever wish to carry out your plans before an eternity is over, then you _will not kill me_."

The immortal seemed to contemplate this briefly, his turquoise eyes, typically so serene and majestic, flaring violently like a dying star. In a tone that was hushed, yet seemed to fill the entire room, he then said, "I will take you and _you _alone."

"Very well." She agreed, grating her teeth with apprehension. "Untie my companions and let them leave freely from this place."

But Richard Mayhew, who had been muttering to himself with disbelief, pressed forward with his warnings.

"Door, he's just going to use us to threaten you again. Once I'm untied, you can't use Limbo against him."

He was wrong, of course. She could still open the portal to Limbo if Islington were to try and escape, but without being tied to the column there was little doubt that the Marquis and Richard would share the angel's fate.

"Yes, I can, Richard. And I am sorry." Door replied, hanging her head with what may have been shame. Or remorse. "I promised my little sister that I would always look out for her. I have to take this chance or I'll never find her even if she _is_ alive."

"But… but, Door…"

She didn't let him continue, knowing it would only weaken her resolve.

"Islington, if you use Richard or the Marquis against me thinking that it will prevent me from sending you away then know that you are _wrong_." Hissed Door. "You are wrong, and you will _never_ have your revenge. Even if my sister isn't alive, you will lose everything in Limbo. Speak to me alone, deceive me even, but do not hurt my friends when it will do nobody in this room any good."

The angel's expression was blank, but there was still something… _sinister _about him as he breathily replied, "Of course, my dear Door, of course."

Without a cue, without warning, Islingoton appeared behind one of his prisoners in a flurry of wings and gossamer feathers.

"Don't hurt her, angel." Growled the Marquis, wrenching his hands from their shackles once he was freed.

"Hurt her? I would not _dream_ of it." Whispered the immortal, moving onto Richard.

"Islington, I'm not going to leave you here with her. Door, I'm not leaving you!" he shouted.

With his bonds removed, Richard tried to throw himself at the angel, who with a soft chuckle, evaded him gracefully.

"You'll be on your knees before me eventually, Richard Mahew. But your reverence _is_ appreciated." Mocked Islington.

The man she had come to care for – love, even – beat his fist against the ground as he stated, "How can you possibly trust him? He killed your family and now he wants to kill you. He said it. You _heard_ him. We all did."

"Marquis," she began in a perfect monotone. "Please take Richard through into the corridor. Once you pass the first pillar, you'll be sent back to the market. Take care of him for me."

"Yes, my Lady." Was his sad response. Though larger than Richard, the man put up enough protest to make the short journey to the exit much longer than it had to be.

"No, don't do this – Door! Christ, Marquis get off me – "

At that point, they must have crossed the barrier because she heard nothing. Not the shouts of her comrade or the scuffle of their boots on the marble floor. Not a single sound was made… except for the ruffle of air as someone very different than those that had left her moved to stand directly before her.

"Well, now that we are entirely alone…" Islington seemed to drift in thought before his eyes lingered on her body. "Shall I remove your bonds?"

He was stepping closer to her, a predatory gleam in his angelic eyes.

"Not until we come to an understanding." She told him slowly, piercing him with a dangerous look of her own.

"What _sort_ of understanding, my Lady?"

As the concept of personal distance became a thing of fiction, Door's gaze remained fixed on his, even when maintaining eye contacting meant tilting her neck to expose vulnerable flesh and arteries.

He was tall – an edifice, really. He could place his chin on top of her head if he were to lean forward ever so slightly, but she knew he'd sooner place a knife into her spine.

"Where is my sister?"

He seemed amused by her request.

"If I were to tell you, what would prevent you from opening that door and casting me into oblivion?"

"Something you would never understand," she practically spat. "_Righteousness_."

He laughed at her openly, the sound of it carrying though the halls and corridors of the labyrinth that had trapped him for so very long.

"I understand it quite well, actually," he mused, watching her pupils narrow with distrust. "Along with betrayal, abandonment, _loss_…"

"But will any of those prevent you from murdering me in cold blood once you undo my bonds?"

"Ah, an interesting question," The angel began to circle her. "But you can take solace in the fact that merely _killing _you is no longer sufficient. I have watched an entire city fall and those I held most dear perish beneath the unforgiving waves. And then _I_ was blamed for the demise of my family…"

She felt more than heard him come to a stop behind her before continuing, "Despite the fact that I would have given the rest of the world to save them. Your life is not what I want anymore, Lady Door," she felt his breath near her ear. A mortal man's would have been warmed by the flow of blood, but Islington's was cold as ice. And much more bitter. "It is your _soul_ I desire."

He seemed to relish the way she shuddered, his mouth forming a thin smile as he placed a hand gently atop the chains of her wrists.

"May I?"

She inhaled deeply before nodding, stiffly. She prayed he wouldn't notice the way her body trembled, ever so slightly. However, she knew that this was the realm of a fallen angel… God was deaf to her pleas. And, as always, He'd have likely decided not to intervene anyway, citing some balderdash about the beauty of free will and self-fulfillment…

So successful was her attempt to ignore the ministrations of Islington that she didn't notice his wandering hand until it settled beneath her chin. His body remained partially behind her, but his voice seemed to engulf her entire form.

"If you would like me to take you to your sister," he said pleasantly, guiding her face to look at his. The beauty of his angelic lineage was unfairly deceptive. The way his ebony hair hung in tussled fringes before his eyes made him appear immeasurably docile and compassionate. It was the immortal's next words that reminded her brain of his true nature.

"You will listen to my demands _very carefully_. Or else," cooed Islington, grazing his lips over her forehead. "I will kill you both. And I will be _excruciatingly _cruel."

* * *

**A/N:** The running theme in most of my fanfiction involves taking a scene and changing one critical decision. This one in particular really appealed to me because I _could not stand_ another minute of having the mystery of Door's sister unresolved.

Also, I am shamelessly enraptured by the Angel Islington. I sympathize with his plight, and you might see a great deal of that in later chapters, depending on feedback and whether I find this story is worth pursuing. Might also go for Door/Islington because _goddamit, _what is the **point** of having internet if my vague, highly improbable ships aren't brought to life in writing?


End file.
